Quoth the Raven
by we-are-floating-bubbles
Summary: Love is a turbulent ride. Kim learns that after her groom-to-be dies in an accident. My life isn't done with her yet. There will be more hurting, more love, more caring more happy. What can you do but accept it?


Things like this didn't happen to girls like me. Things like this didn't happen in small town Seaford. You don't just wake up one morning spouse-less.

Or practically spouse-less. Brett and I were engaged for three months when he fell off a ladder and broke his skull when he hit his head on a rock. Things like that just don't happen.

But that's what happened.

The funeral and the next four weeks after it were a tearful, painful blur. Relatives gave their condolences, but I found myself asking what was the use? My fiancé was dead. Their sorrys couldn't change that.

Friends helped as much as they could. They fed me chicken soup, chamomile tea, and antidepressants for three weeks before they got tired of me. They hired a maid to take care of me. I was in the land of the living, but barely.

Believe it or not, it was a depressing poem that got me out of my bed and onto my feet again. Verna, the maid, had convinced me to take a walk around the apartment. I didn't know why I agreed to it. Every crack, every crevice reminded me of Brett. The granite counter, he used to place his elbows on when he was talking to me while I was making dinner in the kitchen. The remote taped on to the armrest of the couch, so he'd never lose it. The... oh, I'm just going to make myself sad.

I was looking through Brett's bookshelf just to torture myself when I found a printed out copy of The Raven by Edgar Allen Poe.

I furrowed my eyebrows, not sure what to make of it. Before I was fully aware of what I was doing, I shuffled over to the love seat (interesting choice considering my love was gone), plopped myself onto it, and began reading.

**The Raven by Edgar Allen Poe (with commentary by Kimberly Anne Beulah Crawford) **

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary,  
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,  
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,  
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.  
`'Tis some visitor,' I muttered, `tapping at my chamber door -  
Only this, and nothing more.' **(Haha, sure...)**

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,  
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.  
Eagerly I wished the morrow; - vainly I had sought to borrow  
From my books surcease of sorrow - sorrow for the lost Lenore -  
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels named Lenore -  
Nameless here for evermore. **(Isn't this basically like me right now with Brett?)**

And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain  
Thrilled me - filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;  
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating  
`'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door -  
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door; -  
This it is, and nothing more,' **(The chances of it being just some normal visitor are slimmer than the chances of winning the lottery)**

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,  
`Sir,' said I, `or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;  
But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,  
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,  
That I scarce was sure I heard you' - here I opened wide the door; -  
Darkness there, and nothing more. **(No one talks like that)**

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,  
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before;  
But the silence was unbroken, and the darkness gave no token,  
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, `Lenore!'  
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, `Lenore!'  
Merely this and nothing more. **(Creepy. Something whispered out the name of his dead wife.)**

Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,  
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.  
`Surely,' said I, `surely that is something at my window lattice;  
Let me see then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore -  
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore; -  
'Tis the wind and nothing more!' **(Oh come on. Do you really believe that?)**

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,  
In there stepped a stately raven of the saintly days of yore.  
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;  
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door -  
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door -  
Perched, and sat, and nothing more. **(At least he knocked.)**

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,  
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,  
`Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,' I said, `art sure no craven.  
Ghastly grim and ancient raven wandering from the nightly shore -  
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!'  
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.' **(Huh. He's quite articulate.)**

Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,  
Though its answer little meaning - little relevancy bore;  
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being  
Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door -  
Bird or beast above the sculptured bust above his chamber door,  
With such name as `Nevermore.' **(How do you know his name's Nevermore? It could just be Mike.)**

But the raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only,  
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.  
Nothing further then he uttered - not a feather then he fluttered -  
Till I scarcely more than muttered `Other friends have flown before -  
On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before.'  
Then the bird said, `Nevermore.' **(I saw a bird inside Walmart once.)**

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,  
`Doubtless,' said I, `what it utters is its only stock and store,  
Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful disaster  
Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore -  
Till the dirges of his hope that melancholy burden bore  
Of "Never-nevermore."' **(Okay, so I would be freaked out a little too at this point.)**

But the raven still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling,  
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird and bust and door;  
Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking  
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore -  
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore  
Meant in croaking `Nevermore.' **(I get that he's kind of obsessive. He shows so much interest in this bird.) **

This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing  
To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core;  
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining  
On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o'er,  
But whose velvet violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o'er,  
_She_ shall press, ah, nevermore! **(Staring Contest!)**

Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer  
Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.  
`Wretch,' I cried, `thy God hath lent thee - by these angels he has sent thee  
Respite - respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore!  
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget this lost Lenore!'  
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.' **(Rude, much?)**

`Prophet!' said I, `thing of evil! - prophet still, if bird or devil! -  
Whether tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,  
Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted -  
On this home by horror haunted - tell me truly, I implore -  
Is there - _is_ there balm in Gilead? - tell me - tell me, I implore!'  
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.' **(He's getting seriously worked up)**

`Prophet!' said I, `thing of evil! - prophet still, if bird or devil!  
By that Heaven that bends above us - by that God we both adore -  
Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,  
It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels named Lenore -  
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden, whom the angels named Lenore?'  
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.' **(Does he like torturing himself? I mean, it's only getting more and more painful each time he mentions Lenore)**

`Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!' I shrieked upstarting -  
`Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore!  
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!  
Leave my loneliness unbroken! - quit the bust above my door!  
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!'  
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.' **(Well, what did you expect?)**

And the raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting  
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;  
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,  
And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;  
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor  
Shall be lifted - nevermore! **(Um.)**

:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:

After I finished reading it, I was a changed woman. I felt like the speaker in the poem, torturing myself with the memories of Brett. The Raven started out a story of a man talking to a raven, but finishes a man descending into his personal hell.

I realized that that was what would happen if I kept thinking about Brett. I would lose it and go mad. The poem, if coincidentally, was placed there for a reason. I realized something the speaker did not: the Raven was meant to display his inner angst and was trying to tell him to move on, before it was too late.

And in that moment, Nevermore became my new motto.

:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:

I walked into my closet and changed out of the black clothes I had basically been living in for the past few weeks and changed into a gray t-shirt and sweatpants. I grabbed my running shoes, said a quick goodbye to an astonished Verna, and headed out the door to take a long walk.

It was a rather misty morning. My breath came out in wisps of fogs as I ran. Because Seaford isn't exactly the biggest of places, new travels around fast. They all knew about the crazy blonde who had locked herself up in her apartment in a cloud of grief. So I got plenty of stares as I jogged through the park. I didn't let it bother me. It was about time I moved on.

I ran into Jerry. No, I mean literally ran into Jerry. I managed to stay upright, but Jerry fell splat on his back. I helped him up.

"Kim!" He exclaimed in disbelief. "You're outside!"

I laughed for the first time in a month. "Yeah. It's about time, huh?"

I left Jerry, who was still gaping, and headed on home. I had to make a few phone calls.

As I walked inside, Verna was making French Toast, complete with strawberries and maple syrup. "Oh, Verna. You didn't have to do all that."

"Why not?" She smiled. "You're getting on with your life. It's a reason to celebrate."

I grinned back. Just let me take a bath first. I probably stink."

I took a long, hot shower, washing away my depression along with the dirt and grime. Brett still haunted my mind, but I was learning to cope with it. I toweled myself up, picked out my favorite out fit (a plain red t-shirt, white 3/4 blazer, dark wash jeans, brown wedges), put on a tiny bit of makeup, and spritzed on some of my favorite perfume. I was about to curl my hair when I had a fleeting memory of Brett telling me he liked it curly. I picked up my straightener instead.

I walked into the dining room and finish eating up the French Toast. I called my family and friend, told them I was still alive and that I was sorry about not calling them. I called the hospital I worked at and told them I was quitting. I got in Brett's old pickup truck, took a ride around the city, ate Ice Cream at Baskin Robbins, and went sock shopping.

It was one of the most productive days I've ever had.

:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:

Two weeks after that, I moved to New York.

I love it here. It's constantly changing, the people are all so nice, and I think big city life is better suited for me. I'm more comfortable here than I ever was back home.

I got another job at a pediatrics center. It's a place where kids with cancer come for Chemotherapy. It blows my mind that the children there are so happy, even with the joy-sucking condition they're in. They give me hope.

I adopted a dog for the first time. I've always wanted a dog, but as a kid, my mom hated animals and Brett was allergic. Dojo, in memory of my childhood sport, is a purebred mutt, and I love him more than I thought.

I'm still in contact with my old friends, but we're not as close as we used to be. I have new friends here.

But best of all, I have a boyfriend. It was a rainy day, and I walked into a Starbucks to find some shelter, as I had no umbrella with me. I had no makeup on, my clothes were sticking to my body, and my hair was a wet, tangled mess.

"I'd like a cinnamon soy latte, extra wh-wh-whipped c-cr-cream." I (tried to) order. The barista raised an eyebrow and smirked, and I'm pretty sure I froze in place.

He had gorgeous long brown hair, chocolate colored eyes, a perfectly sculpted face, and two cute moles, one on each cheek. He turned around to face the ice machine. And a cute butt. Let's not forget about the butt.

I mentally slapped myself. I was making an idiot out of myself just because there was a handsome guy getting my coffee. I am Kimberly Crawford, and I will not become one of those plastic girls.

Then he smiled at me and I turned to putty again. "Here's your drink. That's $3.48."

I moronically handed him my credit card, finished the transaction, and hurried my way over to a table before I embarrassed myself again. I sipped my coffee, pretending not to notice the barista guy glancing at me every now and then. I finished my drink and was about to throw away the cup when I noticed a messy scrawl on the side of the cup.

JACK

681-3488

My face flamed up. I purposefully marched over to the ordering desk, grabbed Jack and kissed him, right then and there.

The few people in the Starbucks clapped and wolf-whistled. I pulled away grinning like a maniac. Jack kissed me on the cheek and whispered, "I don't know your name."

"Kim. Kim Crawford." I laughed.

The next day, I curled my hair again for the first time in a year.

* * *

**Disclaimer: I do not own Kickin' It and/or The Raven, by Edgar Allen Poe.**

As an apology for a such a horrible chapter on The Disaster Package on Wednesday, I wrote this! This idea came at two o'clock last night, as all of my best ones do.

I absolutely love The Raven. It's probably my favorite Edgar Allen Poe poem. I was also inspired by my best friend, who's grandmother died due to a heart attack. She took it so maturely, and I admire her. So if you're reading this AJ, good for you girl.

Kim's outfit is linked in my profile, go check it out c:

As always, don't forget to review! Love you all.

-Darcy


End file.
